


The Digression

by itstonedme



Series: Beguilement Verse [3]
Category: Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-17
Updated: 2008-10-17
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:05:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itstonedme/pseuds/itstonedme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU, modern day set in Amsterdam.  Elijah and Dominic are high-end escorts who visit with a favoured client, Ian.  Part 3 in the Beguilement universe.  First posted on LJ in October 2009 <a href="http://itstonedme.livejournal.com/11934.html">here</a> with reader comments and lovely chapter banner by Stormatdusk.</p>
<p>Disclaimer: A work of fiction.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Digression

Dom sits forward and slips the cab driver a twenty euro note. "Just the receipt, mate." As he waits, he looks out the open passenger window. 

The apartment façade is smart enough, of a certain vintage with art deco awning over the walkway and floral planters guarding the glass-and-brass doorway. Not too many storeys. Not too much traffic either; it’s a fairly quiet street, pedestrian and bike traffic mostly. 

He steps from the cab and into the foyer, announcing himself on the handset, and when he’s buzzed in, he crosses the empty lobby to the elevator, taking it unaccompanied to the sixth floor. He pulls an atomizer from his inside breast pocket, yawning wide and spritzing twice before putting it away. Then tugging each shirt cuff, he crosses his hands and rides the rest of the way in stillness. 

The elevator pings and the doors whisper apart, and a wide hallway, tastefully outfitted with deep floral carpeting and rosewood panels, traverses before him. The suite number of the address Elijah has given is about five units down on the left. Before he knocks, he checks himself in the full length mirrors framing the doorway. The dark three-piece suit is a good choice for this evening, but he’s dampened down its formality with an open collar, touch of eyeliner and streaky tufted do. It's what Dom likes to think of as his moneyed wastrel look. 

Sucking in air and exhaling slowly, he moves into the sight line of the spy hole. The door knocker is a weighty brass hand holding a smithy’s hammer. He lifts it and raps lightly. 

Showtime.

Inside, what sounds like a small dog of unknown pedigree goes off like a bomb, its feisty yelps moving in ever-nearing circles towards the heavy hall door. The corners of Dom’s mouth and eyebrow quirk upwards; he hasn’t met an old queen yet who doesn’t coddle some smidgen of canine fluff. 

"Shoosh, now," Ian coos as the door opens, scooping up an armful of what Dom refers to as a Verdell, the dog in the Jack Nicholson movie where Jack can’t walk on cracks. "Dominic. Ian. Delighted," he smiles, extending a hand. "And this little nuisance is Button." Ian kisses the dog’s small head. "Button is now going down for the evening, aren’t you my tender bit of _kishka_?" 

Dom takes Ian’s hand and finds the grip large and firm. Ian’s eyes twinkle as he says, "Elijah speaks very highly of you, you know." 

"Not surprised," Dom winks cheekily, matching the pressure of Ian's hand. "Elijah is a good friend but a better liar." He reaches out to pet Button, telling him what a handsome boy he is. From beneath his brows, he flashes an upward glance at Ian, letting a shy smile curl the edges of his mouth. And saucy tart that he is, he conjures a blush for the occasion just because he can. 

Dom holds the belief that there’s nothing like a coy boy to stir the juices of the senior set. 

Ian snorts in delight, and Button is deposited behind the door of a nearby room off the hallway, which is immediately slid shut. Turning back to his guest, Ian tugs together the edges of the Polynesian print robe he’s wearing. "Do-min-ic," he purrs, making a little moue as he smoothes his hands over a silk-covered chest, his own bit of the coquette emerging because he too was once a coy boy and old tricks die terribly hard. "We both know that butter wouldn’t dare melt in Elijah’s undeniably talented mouth. I suspect you are being a little modest, hmmm?" 

Dom wrinkles his nose as if something smells burnt. "You know, ‘modest’ isn’t a word I’m used to hearing." 

"Oh, goodie!" Ian chirps, bringing his hands together. "Then all is not lost." 

Dom realizes he risks appearing rude (which has never really stopped him, truth be told, but then again, this _is_ Elijah’s client and one should make every effort to be on best behaviour), but regardless, he walks a little past Ian so that he can peek into the livingroom. Whomever or whatever he is looking for, it’s not there. He turns to Ian. "Has he arrived yet?" 

"Yes, as a matter of fact," Ian replies. He gestures down the hall toward a partially shut door at its far end. "Come along. We’ve been having a bit of a visit while we waited for you." 

It’s a wide hall, part foyer, part corridor and Dom goes first, glancing quickly into several of the darkened rooms along the way and at pieces of artwork and statuary lining the walls. The doorway at the end of the hall is ajar perhaps a foot’s width; he places his hand on it and pushes it open, stepping through into the warm low light. 

"Fuuuuck," he exhales, drawing up short. 

Ian steps close behind him, his voice a low rumble. "Yes, well, that is the whole point of our little conclave, isn’t it." 

The centerpiece of the bedroom, for this is obviously where they are, is a king-sized poster bed impressively cornered with ornately carved wooden posts, and Dom doesn’t hesitate for a second to think that Ian bought this bed specifically because it accommodates his perversions, both real and imagined. 

And right now, they are very real, for laying upon the bed linens, tied loosely to each corner, is the main feature of this evening’s entertainment, Dom’s good friend (but better liar) and Ian’s current vice. 

Elijah turns towards them, his eyes bright and unfocussed, and Dom’s cock can’t help but leap a little because he loves how soft they look whenever Elijah goes without his lenses. Elijah’s hands rest on the pillows propping him up, but as he takes in Ian and Dom, his fingers close around the thick leather straps that lead from the sheepskin cuffs and loop around the bedstead. A fine sheen of sweat covers his body, and Dom can only assume from the rigid erection currently straining the confines of a leather cock-and-ball collar that it is due to Ian having worked him into a frothy how-do-you-do during their ‘bit of a visit’. 

"Oh, Ian," Dom admires, "you _do_ know how to turn down the sheets." 

"Thank you," Ian accepts, his long arms reaching around Dom and undoing the single jacket button. "And he’s much tastier than chocolate on one's pillow, but you would know that already, wouldn’t you?" He runs his hands up the sleeves to Dom’s shoulders, briefly resting his cheek against the crown of Dom’s head, then lifts the coat and slides it down his arms. "Wine? Water? Something…fruity, perhaps?" 

"Lots of water," Dom says distractedly, his eyes locked with Elijah’s. 

He walks forward, around the end of the bed to the far side, Elijah tracking him as closely as he can considering that Dom's edges blend with the woodwork, and ghosts his fingers along a bound ankle, up the shin. "So pretty tonight, Elijah." 

Elijah arches soundlessly and attempts to draw his legs up but there’s no give from the silk scarves knotted at his ankles. As far as he’s concerned, his hard-on is fifteen minutes past due and all because Dom can be such a tardy bastard when it comes to fixing his fucking hair. There will be payback tonight, oh yes, and he’s hoping to see that Ian metes it out. 

The mere thought of it makes him ache a little more. 

Dom follows his fingers over Elijah’s knee, along his thigh. He trails them up the rigid underside of Elijah’s cock, and Elijah blurts out a particularly ripe expletive before settling into deep measured breaths. Dom’s eyebrows rise as he slowly withdraws his hand. 

"Yes," Ian says, kneeling on the other side of the bed and passing across a chilled bottle of water that chooses at that moment to drip upon Elijah’s trembling tummy. "He’s become a bit profane in the last little while, haven’t you, my sweet?" He stretches out beside Elijah, dipping his finger into the single drop of water shimmering on Elijah’s stomach, tracing it up over his ribcage towards a peaked nipple. 

Dom uncaps the bottle and gulps several draughts before placing it on the bedstand. "So Ian," he asks, unbuttoning his waistcoat, "what’s the plan for this evening?" 

Ian has become a little lost petting Elijah, stroking along the smoothness of his chest until the nipples draw tight and Elijah shivers, watching him intently, every inch of his being seeming to reach out to Ian even though he is bound. Little gusts of breath slip from his parted lips. 

"Look at him. Isn’t he lovely?" Ian smiles. He reaches down and takes Elijah in hand, pulling slowly while Elijah arches and keens, eyes still locked with Ian’s. 

Dom’s frankly never known Elijah to be so quiet, but then he hasn’t been privy to any of Elijah’s client scenes before tonight so he’ll just have to take it on faith and suss things out as the script unfolds. He suspects some kind of instruction has been given; there’s a control vibe all over the room. He removes his vest, folding it over the seat of a nearby chair and unclips his cuff links. 

"Elijah has earned himself a night of debauchery," Ian smiles, stroking the back of his fingers across Elijah’s flushed cheeks. "Haven’t you, my pet?" He turns to Dom, appraising as more is revealed with the shedding of shirt and trousers. "Being so fresh and agile, it makes no sense that Elijah has to put up with a withered old prune like me every time we’re together. So I decided he needed a treat that I could enjoy as well. And you, dear boy, are it." 

Dom peels off his underwear and crawls onto the bed towards them. He hasn’t the heart to tell Ian that Elijah gets more than his share of debauchery at Dom’s hands, but then Ian has probably figured this out. And the way Dom is being visually devoured as he draws nearer suggests that Ian is full of shite anyway; the night of debauchery is obviously going to the one who’s footing the bill. Fresh and agile, to the power of two. 

Ian’s hand curls around Dom’s skull as he pulls him in for a kiss, and Dom tongues him back just as thoroughly as he’s getting. Ian’s hand and lips are surprisingly gentle though - surprisingly _safe_ \- and Dom eventually gives up and lets his mouth be taken by someone who certainly knows how to kiss. 

"You conniving bastard," he smiles as they draw apart. "Old and withered, my fucking ass." 

"Ah, flattery," Ian grins. "Now show me how you can please our boy." 

Dom looks at Elijah, who has been watching them intently. Elijah’s chin comes up, yearning, and Dom leans down, licking along the seam of his lips, delving sweetly inside, all the while Ian’s hand still upon the back of his skull and neck, smoothing gently. 

Dom pulls away with a parting lick. "Were you thinking about me while Ian got you ready?" he breathes. Ian’s hand leaves his neck and from Elijah’s gasp, Dom knows where it has landed. He leans close, his lips at Elijah’s ear. "When he used his mouth, did you imagine it was me?" 

Elijah’s cock jumps in Ian’s hand, and Ian rumbles with pleasure. 

Dom licks a stripe from Elijah’s ear to the corner of his mouth and Elijah turns quickly, latching onto Dom’s tongue and sucking it wetly because, oh God, his own mouth is all that he has left to fucking work with and he’s achingly greedy right now. The straps of the cuffs snap tight against the posts. 

Dom pulls away and laughs. "Is that how it is, Elijah? You need something to suck?" He glances at Ian, who nods and releases Elijah, shifting back towards the edge of the bed to give Dom legroom. 

Shuffling onto his knees, Dom straddles Elijah’s chest, which is rising and falling rapidly with anticipation, and lifts his half hard cock so that he can smear it along the crease of Elijah’s parted lips. "Look at me," he breathes. Elijah’s eyes flash up as he closes upon the head, and Dom grunts as his hips kick from the wet velvety heat. He smoothes a thumb over Elijah’s hollowing cheek, feels the hard line descending from the upper jaw, muscles working to take him in. He closes his eyes and lets his head fall back, and he can’t tell if the noise coming from Ian’s quarter is a moan, a groan or a whimper. 

Or whether it is even Ian. 

"Very nice, boys," Ian comments softly, stroking along Dom's thigh and calf. He leans forward and kisses Dom’s hip as he slides his hand over the flexing curve of his buttock, long fingers teasing along the crease of Dom’s ass. 

Dom blinks back into the moment and looks down to where his cock is being treated to a blowjob he’s never going to find anywhere else because Elijah’s fellating skills are near perfection and because, well, because there is something about fucking the face of a cherub that is exquisitely sinful. Elijah is still watching him. "Nice doesn’t even begin to touch it," he says thickly, sliding a hand behind Elijah’s head to take some of the strain off his neck and to lengthen the angle as he tips forward a little. "That’s it," he encourages. 

Ian hums and leans back, reaching behind to the bedside table for the bottle of lubricant and strip of condoms. He brings them around, squeezing the gel liberally onto his fingers, then reaches behind Dom, sliding back and forth from tailbone to balls, reapplying several times so that everything moves very nicely. 

Dom's breathing and thrusts have picked up the pace because he knows something’s coming and he’s hoping it’s going to be him. Ian slowly inserts two long fingers, and Dom grabs onto the headboard. "Fuck, Ian," he pants.

Ian pushes up from the mattress, fingers still swirling deeply within Dom, and winces. "Oh God, I'm getting too old for these gymnastics," he groans, pausing to let the fire in his knees settle.

Dom's grip on Elijah's neck is becoming a bit frantic, and as good as he is, Elijah is finding Dom's eagerness somewhat uncomfortable. He applies a little teeth to put on the brakes. 

"Okay, okay," Dom breathes, looking down, massaging Elijah's temple with a thumb. "Please Lij, I'm dying here. I'll be good."

Behind them, Ian is making every effort to hold old age at bay by straddling Elijah behind Dom. He withdraws his fingers and pulls open his robe, deftly rolling on a condom before freshening the lubricant, coating himself thickly. He slips an arm around Dom's waist and kneels up, sliding his cock along Dom's crease. "Let's make you the filling in the cookie, shall we," he says and lines himself up. 

Dom freezes, his head dropping to his chest, and he groans at the first hard press of Ian's cock. Elijah has warned him that Ian is rather prodigious and Dom is no novice in the area of anal receptiveness, but it feels like Ian is packing a cannon and Dom brings both hands to the headboard and just...pushes, breath gusting through his nostrils. Elijah knows exactly what he's feeling and spits him out, keeping a bit of contact going by sliding his tongue along the curve of Dom's own not-insignificant cock. His neck could use the break.

"That's it, come back," Ian murmurs, pulling Dom gently, each fraction gained drawing a whimper from Dom, his ardor having temporarily gone sideways, until finally Dom feels Ian's thighs and groin brush under his buttocks. He settles onto Ian's haunches, throwing his head back against his shoulder, and lets himself simply adjust. Ian's hand slips down to where Dom's erection is wilting on Elijah's collarbone.

Holding Dom close and pulling along his cock, Ian smiles fondly at Elijah. "I like your friend," he whispers.

"I like him too," Elijah mouths back, smiling. The challenge he's been given this evening is to see how quiet he can be, which is not usually a stretch for Elijah except for the fact that Ian tends to bring out his noisier, more playful side. The _sotto voce_ command is one of Ian's silly challenges that the two of them engage in from time to time, but for Elijah the payout is a hand-tailored Italian summer suit -- thus the name of this particular game -- and Ian knows Elijah's vanity when it comes to clothing. The fact that they will travel to Lugano for the fitting has enriched the pot that much more.

"And when he comes," Ian continues -- and he turns his mouth to Dom's flushed, hair-dampened neck, breathing, "And Dominic, you _will_ come despite how my... _robustness_ must be making you think otherwise" -- "And when he comes," he repeats to Elijah, "it will be upon your pretty, creamy neck." He punctuates his sentence by teasing the head of Dom's cock under Elijah's chin. 

Dom groans and turns towards Ian, nuzzling and mouthing across his grizzled cheek. "Then I think it's time you began moving your ancient fucking robustness."

Elijah's eyebrows pop up, but Ian throws his head back and howls. "You are a cheeky scamp, Dominic, but I like that in my bottoms. Up you go, then. You mustn't expect me to do all the work." He slips one hand under Dom's buttock and pushes up gently so that Dom can begin riding him.

Which brings the head of Dom's cock right back between Elijah's waiting lips. 

Dom is grateful that Ian is as old as he is because he doesn't want to think about the havoc a more athletic man could be causing right now. Quite to the contrary, he can't help but think he's rather like Goldilocks ("and this one feels juuuust right") with Ian's well-oiled erection stroking everything that needs stroking and Elijah's brilliant mouth playing catchup. He has grabbed back onto the headboard for leverage, his fingers curling into the ornately carved wood, and it's only when he stops squinting that he realizes that displayed before him are incredibly fine hand-hewn depictions of every manner of homosexual coupling that the human imagination could possibly conjure. 

"Ian, where did you find this bedframe?" he gasps because sometimes the gay genie is just too hard to keep bottled.

Both of Ian's hands firmly grip his hips as Dom pistons up and down, grinding and executing all manner of deliciousness upon Ian's cock. "Made to order," Ian bites out. "Like all my entertainments."

Elijah knows that Ian could be back there half the night. He knows too that Dom has considerable staying power and that, given his own cirumstances, he's certainly not going anywhere. He has no intention of carrying these two for however long it takes for the first of them to be brought off, especially not with Dom now starting to admire the furniture. He arches his neck and on the next slide, Dom descends directly into his throat. 

"Oh Jesus Christ, Lij," Dom whimpers, and Ian chooses that moment to up the ante, rising to his knees and sinking right into Dom who has sunk right into Elijah, and it's just too much. 

"Remember what I said, Dominic," Ian reminds as he senses the tension building in Dom and then freezing. Dom begins to make little moaning sounds as a deep retraction commences, and Ian eases him back while Elijah's mouth gives him up reluctantly. Ian's hand closes around him as the pulses start, and Dom shuts his eyes, just letting it roll through him. 

Watching Dom orgasm is something Elijah never finds old, even when it's softly out of focus. He grins at Ian while he's still catching his breath, and Ian runs a semen-stained finger along his lower lip. Elijah catches it lightly, licking, then lets it go. 

"Excellent, Dominic," Ian croons, sweeping Dom's damp hair aside with his face. "Very nice indeed. Now be a pet and lift off so that we can untie Elijah." 

With some regret Dom removes himself from both Ian and his lap, crawling to the edge of the bed and reaching for the bottle of water. Ian points to several hand towels on the bedstand and Dom offers one to Ian so that he can clean Elijah before attending to himself. Dom uncaps the bottle, taking a long drink, and turns to watch.

Ian has removed the condom and flung it towards a waste basket. He gazes down at Elijah, and any thoughts he's had of immediately releasing him are temporarily suspended. He holds his cock lightly and raises an eyebrow. "Yes?" he asks. 

"Yeah," Elijah breathes devilishly. 

Elijah accepts as much of Ian into his mouth as he can, but after less than thirty seconds, Ian grimaces and sits back. "It's no use, Elijah. Let me untie you so that I can be the one on my back and you two imps can sport about me. Here we are." He undoes the cuffs, taking each of Elijah's wrists in turn and kissing them tenderly, and directs Dom to take care of the ankle ties. Elijah follows Ian as he rolls off to one side, laughing lightly, his small hands stroking down Ian's thighs, kneading lightly around the knees, massaging his calves and dipping down to leave kisses along the white hairs of his chest. He rearranges the pillows as Ian pushes up to sit against the headboard, leaning in to kiss him deeply once he's settled. 

"Tell me what you want," he whispers.

"Oh, darling," Ian smiles, "I think I'd like you in my mouth again before we get on with it. Is that too awful?" 

Elijah threads his fingers through the wild grey mane above Ian's ears and laughs. Despite the vast span of years between them, they are both a little bit in love with each other. Ian is Elijah's lion: richly talented, exceedingly generous, fabulously flush. And in turn, Elijah is Ian's remnant of youth, his beautiful boy, his eccentric naughtiness. They are both so single-mindedly independent that Ian's various escorts and Elijah's many assignations have done little to interrupt the deepening comfort that time has brought. What started out as The Arrangement is now in its third year with no sign of abating. Neither pretends that the future won't bring heartbreak, but over a lifetime of homosexual love, Ian has learned that heartbreak is the price paid. 

Elijah slowly undulates upwards, dragging the silky smoothness of his torso along Ian's face so that Ian can breathe in the heat rising off him. He grips Ian's hair, his weeping cock trailing up Ian's chest, nearer and nearer until Ian growls and swallows him in one greedy motion. Elijah yelps and releases his hold, running his hands along the solid rail of the headboard, spreading his legs and flexing so that Ian might take mercy on the ache in his balls. He tucks his chin and looks over his shoulder at Dom, smiling. 

Dom unfolds from where he has been watching and walks across the mattress on his knees. Sidling up, he stares to where Elijah's cock slips in and out of Ian's mouth, and he runs his hand through Ian's hair. "Fuck, that's hot," he breathes. He sees how Elijah is beginning to squirm and flush, how his stomach hollows, his chest yearning towards him, and he curls his hand behind Elijah's neck, pulling him in for a thorough mouth fucking. His lips slide off, down over Elijah's jaw, his throat, down to annoy a peaked nipple, and Elijah pushes off from the the headboard as if he's in freefall, head thrown back, held up only by Ian's big hands at his back, Ian's mouth working him and working him and, oh fuck, how sweet it will be when he's finally allowed to come.

Dom continues, mouthing, licking, kissing, down to Elijah's waist, lower, over the Sanskrit tattoo next to his pelvic wing, around his hip to Ian's hand, over it and down his forearm to the back of Elijah's thigh first, then Ian's -- along all the skin in his path. He creeps over the mattress as his mouth courses its discovery until he finally arrives at the V of Ian's legs where he settles and is able to see, up close and personal, the impressive cause of the hollow throb in his ass. He takes Ian in hand and slowly sinks his lips over head of his cock.

Elijah is rapidly losing the strength to stand; his thighs have begun to tremble and his balance is entirely skewed from the quivering convulsions of his pelvis. Ian can feel him vibrating within his hands and through his mouth. He pulls off and looks upwards, his whiskers prickling the flushed cock against his cheek, his eyes a tempest of heat and desire. Elijah grabs back onto the headboard when he catches Ian's gaze and fucking whimpers because he knows what's coming and he craves it. He wants it so badly, he practically chased Ian down for this engagement. He wants the biggest cock he can find so that all he will feel for the next week is a bruising ache that will probably keep him out of circulation. Something to remind him that being for hire is what he does, what he is, and what he thrives on. 

To remind him that a brown-eyed Brit in a hotel bar is history, and what he needs to obliterate every remnant from his memory is a reaming just short of a gang bang. 

Ian's chest is heaving, his lust as heavy as his eyelids and he commands Dom to stop and come round to lube and sheath him. He pulls his legs back together, knees bent, and he and Elijah stare at one another, the back of his head thudding against the headboard as Dom takes him in hand. Dom isn't being shy with the Astroglide either; after all, he too has a vested interest in Elijah's ass. 

"Enough," Ian says impatiently and Dom kneels back as Ian's hands grip Elijah's waist and begin to pull him down. Elijah reaches below, gripping Ian's cock so that he can guide him in, and his breath catches at the breach, a sharp fleeting grimace crossing his face. He releases Ian and presses his hand palm flat against Ian's chest to brace himself. Carefully, slowly, he settles onto the thickness sliding into him, his eyes never leaving Ian's. Ian grunts; it's all he can do to temper the thrust that is screaming in his loins. Elijah curls his fingers into the hair of Ian's chest, then leans forward, laying himself quietly within Ian's arms. The two of them are still for so long that Dom begins to think that he's intruding, that perhaps he should leave. But eventually Elijah sits back, rising just a little on his knees, his eyes closing as he utters a ragged moan, and Dom's gut spikes with such sudden heat at the sound and sight that he has to grab himself to keep from losing it right then and there.

"Watch," Ian gasps to no one in particular as Elijah starts to slowly ride him. "Watch how astonishing he is. Oh, Elijah," he murmurs, his hands running up Elijah's sides, over the pebbled nipples to his shoulders and down his arms. 

Elijah leans back against Ian's legs and closes his eyes, his arms dropping back to hang loosely.

"Dom, put your mouth on him," Ian breathes darkly.

Elijah releases a strung-out cry as Dom's mouth settles over him, as Dom cradles his swollen balls, careful not to anger them more than the leather binding already has. 

"Yessss," Ian hisses. His hands span Elijah's ribs beneath his arms, thumbs slowly swirling the peaked nipples. 

All of this stimulation is achingly glorious. Elijah can feel Ian's cock thrumming in his ass, twitching to every nuance of sound that he's making. It's a wickedly heady kind of power, the courtesan's true opiate. He is beginning to descend into that fiery zone of physical sensation where he is nothing but eros, his sense of being simply his cock, his ass and two furious points upon his chest. At this point, he's been on the edge for so long that it's not going to take any amount of back-and-forth to put him over the top, if only he were able to go over the top. What's coming from his throat is the frantic white noise of his body's physics, and he's vaguely aware that if Ian doesn't release him soon, he will implode because it's just a case of energy and matter needing to go somewhere. 

"Dom," Ian murmurs, sensing everything, and Dom stills. "Unbuckle that thing."

Dom sits up, his fingers eager to free Elijah. He works the leather and loops as best he can while Elijah is draped across Ian's bent legs, head back and arms limp upon the coverlet, his chest surging and surging upwards, as far away as it can get from the frenzy building in his pelvis. Dom tosses the binding onto the bed and scrambles to press himself against Ian, watching avidly.

Ian groans in sympathy as Elijah grunts and convulses. Elijah's cock lifts away from his abdomen, dry pulsing at first and then erupting in ribbons upon his stomach. "Oh yeah," Dom breathes, squirming and grinding himself against Ian. 

Ian strokes Elijah's thighs, gentling him, then gropes the nearby bedding until he locates the hand towel he'd used earlier. He cleans Elijah tenderly, then leans forward to scoop the lethargic body up and off his cock. Kissing the damp forehead, he lays him on the bed beside him. Elijah blinks and draws Ian's hand to his lips, placing a kiss upon the back of it. He tips his head back and gazes up at Ian, smiling and spent.

After a beat, Ian turns to Dom, a glorious grin breaking over his face as he removes the condom and reaches for another. "Round two, limpet. Do be a love and find the lube."

* 

Dom sits on the edge of the bed and feeds a link through his shirt cuff. He hadn't wanted to shower for fear of waking either Ian or Elijah, but the smell of sweat and spunk was so pervasive he could barely stand himself and so he had taken himself away for a quick cleanup. He rises and retrieves his vest, then slips his bare feet into his shoes. His jacket is hanging on the back of a chair by the door where Ian had left it, and he's just about to leave when he hears the soft rustle of bedding. 

He turns to find Elijah extending an arm across the sheets towards him sleepily. He scoots back and drops gingerly to one knee beside the bed, bringing his face within sight range. "Heh, _cherubino_ ," he breathes.

Elijah's fingers close over the edge of his collar and pull so that Dom must come closer to receive the gentle kiss waiting for him. "Did you have a good time?" Elijah whispers. 

"You fucking owe me," Dom murmurs, grinning and glancing past Elijah to make sure he's not heard. "But he's adorable."

Elijah smiles, but already he is fading and his eyes flutter closed. "I'll call you later."

Dom leaves with another kiss. He slips from the bedroom into the hall and pulls on his jacket, straightening himself in the mirror. He steps into the darkened livingroom, drawing his mobile from his pocket, and speed-dials for a taxi pickup. Sliding open the balcony door, he steps out and lights a cigarette, waiting in the crisp pre-dawn air for the ride to take him home.


End file.
